


To Be With Pack

by BigBadLittleRed



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Protective Rosalee, Spoilers for 4x21, hurt nick, protective Monroe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2015-05-09
Packaged: 2018-03-29 16:59:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3903961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BigBadLittleRed/pseuds/BigBadLittleRed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Nick, Nick look at me! This is a trap!" </p><p>Or</p><p>The aftermath of Kenneth's plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Be With Pack

**Author's Note:**

> ( Well, I'm dead, everyone's dead. I cannot believe that just happened.. I just... -Sighs- I knew it was coming, but seriously... Nick was so devastated, I needed some Nick love. So just a simple one chapter fic... Enjoy? I guess... )

It hits him like a freight train, he sort of moves back. Heart beginning to pound, vision blurring.

 

No, it's not true. It's not her, it can't be!

 

His back hits something solid, and there's a piece of himself that snaps and breaks away.

 

"NO!" He screams, because his mother is dead. He screams until he's gasping for air, tears swimming in his eyes. After eighteen years of having his mother being "dead", only for him to have her back for a short period of time before she's yanked from his life once more.

 

Swiftly, like a candle being blown out. He feels like his chest is hollow and about to burst at the same time, dragging in shallow breaths as he stares at that simple box that holds a devastating truth.

 

Kelly Burkhardt was dead.

 

He focuses on that box, thinking back to all the things that he'd done with his mother as a child.. All those nights he spent crying, missing her and his dad. The mix of confusion, joy, and anger that accompanied seeing her again when she'd returned almost eighteen years later. He couldn't hate her, blame her, he would have probably done the same thing.. To protect someone he loved, he'd do anything.

 

"Nick, Nick look at me! This is a trap!" He sort of snaps from his thoughts, mind still a pain-filled haze.

 

"We have to go, now." She tells him, before one of her hands is supporting his back and the other rests on his chest as she pulls him to his feet. She takes his hand, pulling him away from the box that just ruined one of the only good things in his hellish life.

 

He's dragged out, Trubel's pulling out her machete, he can feel Hank at his back. There's a strong hand resting on his shoulder, leading him to the door.

 

Almost like a cue, right as Trubel's hand touches the doorknob, a Hundjäger jumps down the stairs. He slams into Hank, which pulls Nick from his mind to merely monitor reality. He watches as Trubel brushes past him and slices a Hundjäger's head off. Then they're everywhere, Hundjägers, Klaustreichs, he can barely keep up.

 

But suddenly he's shoved against a wall, a man with a dark grin on his face.

 

And then he breaks away from this numbness, and all he can feel is the cold air that fills his body. This freezing rage building up.

 

He somehow throws the man back, pulls his gun, plants two bullets in his chest. He turns, shoots, shoots again. He doesn't stop until his clip is empty, clocks another Wesen in the head with his pistol, the house is suddenly quiet.

 

They breathe heavily, standing over bodies, breathing in the fresh blood and gunpowder.. Letting the feeling of death wash over them in heavy waves, Nick holsters his empty weapon.

 

"We have to go." He says, his voice cracks slightly, hoarse and dry. Trubel is giving him a sad look, Hank seems worried.

 

"Nick, I'm so-" He holds up a hand, halting her words effectively.

 

"We can't stay here." He grunts, turning and opening the door.

 

-

 

They reach the Spice Shop in a few minutes, the adrenaline is beginning to drain from Nick's body. He feels heavy and tired, wishing to just curl up and sleep forever. It scares him a bit when he realizes he just wanted to die. Not sleep, he wished he was dead. Maybe if he'd just died, everyone wouldn't be so screwed up. He wouldn't have to deal with everything.

 

He's standing behind Trubel, Hank bringing up the rear. He leans back against the wall near the door, focusing on the broken shelves across the room with dim eyes.

 

"-with us?" He only catches the last of it, blinking, turning his head to find everyone looking at him. Rosalee looks like she's in physical pain, like she wants so desperately to comfort him but doesn't know how he'll react. Monroe's concerned, that upset scrunched up look on his face. Trubel still looks sad, she's not used to tragedy like they were. She was a loner, wasn't accustomed to losing something she never really had. Hank's face is schooled, but he can see that worry in his gleaming brown eyes.

 

"What?" He croaks, before clearing his throat slightly and pushing off the wall.

 

"I said, are you still with us.. But apparently you were a thousand miles away.." Monroe mutters, crossing his arms.

 

"Nick, I'm so sorry." Rosalee whispers, hands clasped together near her chest.

 

"I already went through this eighteen years ago." He murmurs, shoving his hands into his pockets.

 

"But this is different, you still lost your mom, Nick." Hank says quietly.

 

"Can't we just get back on topic? My mother-" His voice breaks, lips trembling and a lump forming in his throat.

 

"My..." He tries again, swallowing roughly, blinking rapidly. "My mo-mother..." He mumbles, tears blur his vision.

 

"My mother." He says simply, shaking his head as he peers down at the ground. A few tears splash against the worn down hardwood floor, he sniffs softly.

 

And then suddenly there's a body wrapped around his, pulling his head against a warm chest. They're taller than him, much taller, so obviously, Monroe. Plus, he smelled like this odd cologne that reminded him of mint and pine. It was weird, but it was Monroe. He clutches at Monroe's back, grabbing two fistfuls of his sweater as he hides his face against the man's shoulder. Sobs shake his body, he hears the door open and close after a few hands pat at his back.

 

The store is quiet, another body presses against his and Monroe's side, smaller than them. A soft hand strokes at his back then moves up to curl through his hair, soothing murmurs whispered in his ear as he trembles and cries. Rosalee then, with that soft, caring voice, trying so desperately to calm him. They stand there for a long time, until Nick's heavy sobs turn into quiet hiccups.

 

Then he's moved out of the shop and into Monroe's car, he's placed in the back seat. Rosalee climbs in next to him, pulling him close and letting him rest his head against her shoulder. The drive back is quiet, the rattle of the car engine, Monroe's soft tapping on the steering wheel, Rosalee's soothing humming.

 

The house they arrive at is Monroe and Rosalee's. They walk up to the front porch, Monroe pulling the keys from his pocket. Rosalee's rubbing at the back of Nick's neck, her other hand clasping his. He's no longer crying, a little red in the eyes and sad in the face.. But his eyes were dry, only the stains from the tears on his cheeks.

 

He's led upstairs, so he heads for the guest room automatically. But, to his surprise, Monroe grabs his arm.

 

"C'mon bud." He pulls Nick into the room he shares with Rosalee, the Grimm lets Monroe strip him down to his boxers before accepting a pair of plaid sweatpants that were much too big on him. The shirt he's given is definitely Monroe's as well, smells of his soap, he takes a moment to sniff at the collar. Monroe pulls him into another embrace, pressing a kiss to Nick's head.

 

When he's released, he expects to be sent back to the guest room, but Rosalee appears, clad in pajamas. She grabs his hand and pulls him over to the bed, tugging the covers back. Nick climbs in when gestured to, letting himself get adjusted into the middle. Then Monroe's there, wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. He climbs in on one side, Rosalee on the other.

 

"You know, Grimms may not be Wesen.. But it's said that they can tap into Wesen instincts." Monroe says as he pulls the covers over the three of them, Nick can't find the energy to speak, instead he offers a questioning glance. He's a little confused, but his relationship with Rosalee and Monroe was always a bit odd.

 

"Some Wesen are creatures who benefit from packs." Rosalee explains quietly, her hand wraps around his waist, he can feel his eyes getting heavier.

 

"Like Blutbaden?" Nick murmurs softly as the lamp turns off, Monroe turns over and moves closer to him. His strong hand rests on his chest, reaching over to stroke Rosalee's cheek gently.

 

"And Fuchsbau." Rosalee whispers.

 

"But the best way to handle grief, is to be with those you think of as pack." Monroe's hand moves from Rosalee's face and strokes over Nick's.

 

"S'it actually work?" He questions tiredly.

 

"Seems to be." Rosalee says softly, hand stroking his side gently.

 

He feels weighted down with the events from that day, and yet somehow lighter in the arms of the people closest to him. Nick can still hear them mumbling softly to each other before he falls under, their combined voices sets him at ease. Comfortable and safe, he takes a much needed rest.


End file.
